


I Want to Feel the Thunder, I Want to Scream

by bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate universe - Mafia, Anal Sex, Cat Ears, Cat/Human Hybrids, Characters genuinely being cared for is my Kink, Cock Warming, Gentle Sex, Love Bites, M/M, Mafia AU, Mentions of past abuse, Praise Kink, Purring, So not a very realistic mafia, Suits, but like a mafia where everyone is close-knit and cares about each other instead of fighting, caring sex, shhh this is wildly self-indulgent ok let me have this, this is shockingly fluffy and vanilla, this starts out a little dark and gritty but turns into very fluffy and soft and borderline vanilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 11:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16786471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies/pseuds/bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies
Summary: Keith knows working for the mafia comes with a certain amount of danger, but it's hardly any more dangerous than being an ownerless Hybrid on the streets by himself, seen by many as just a set of cute cat ears and something to be taken advantage of.  Keith likes the reassuring weight of his blade on his hand, and his brothers-in-arms at his back.  It's a dangerous life, but there's nowhere he would rather be than here.





	I Want to Feel the Thunder, I Want to Scream

**Author's Note:**

> My kink is taking characters that could literally kill and _spoiling them._
> 
> WARNING for a bit of misogynistic language and dub/non-con in the beginning on the part of an OC antagonist, but Keith is never in any danger (he’s actually the one who is _really_ in control of the situation, and can and will defend himself at the drop of a hat, as you see at the end of the encounter). He knows what he’s doing and does it intentionally, even if he’d rather not. He also acts a bit ooc in the beginning, but he’s putting on a façade so that’s why (still, felt weird to write ooc Keith). 
> 
> The _actual_ smut (with Kolivan) is 100% enthusiastic consent. *thumbs up* Enjoy!

Keith's sharp eyes scanned the dimly-lit club, his tail swaying behind him in a way he knew looked lazy, but really was calculated. As a Cat-Boy – the colloquial name irked him, though, he preferred the proper term Hybrid – his vision was better than a human's in the dark, so the dim red and purple lights of the club didn't bother him. The thumping bass of the music against his sensitive ears did, and the seedy people eyeing him up like he was a piece of meat, but that was unavoidable for this job. Dressed in a dark red v-neck t-shirt, casual jacket, and dark jeans, with his black hair pulled back into a small ponytail to show off the distinct lack of collar on his throat, he looked as non-threatening and borderline inviting as he dared. Lay it on too thick, and they would get suspicious. Keep it casual. 

Keith spotted his target sitting at the bar and eyeing up a group of drunk girls probably half his age on the dancefloor. He had on a really tacky Hawaiian-style shirt covered in images of dice and poker chips, unbuttoned at the top to show off a gold chain and a few curly graying chest hairs (more than was on the top of his bald head). Steeling himself and fixing a smile into place, Keith slid onto the stool next to him. "Hey there, handsome. Mind if I join you?" He flashed him a flirty smile. 

Dice-shirt (Keith knew his name, but he refused to use it) turned around and fixed his eyes on Keith. Keith knew the exact moment when any thoughts of those drunk girls vanished from his mind, based on the way his eyes widened and a grin spread across his paunchy face at the sight of Keith's ears. A chilly shudder ran up Keith’s spine, but he had something else made of cold steel hidden at the small of his back that helped to put his fears at ease. 

"What's a cute thing like you doing all alone in a place like this?" Dice-shirt asked, waving over the bartender. "And what are you drinking?" 

"I'm just out looking for a good time." Keith said. "And what's your suggestion? I don't drink too much; I tend to get drunk kinda fast." He giggled. A lie, a complete lie. He was no stranger to alcohol, and he could hold it just fine. 

"For a little thing like you? Long Island iced tea." Dice-shirt looked him up and down hungrily. Keith suppressed a snort. Wow, the hard drinks right off the bat. Was he even pretending he wasn't trying to get Keith drunk quickly? Didn't matter, he didn't plan on drinking much. 

"Sounds good." Keith inched closer to him and leaned on the bar, showing off the curve of his back and the long black tail behind him. "So what's your name, handsome?" He asked Dice-shirt, who was unashamedly staring at his ass. 

Dice-shirt told him his name, like Keith didn't already know it and a lot worse on him, while Keith sipped at his free drink. He didn't bother to ask Keith's name, so Keith didn't bother giving him a fake one. They chatted for a few minutes, although it was not so much chatting as it was Dice-shirt boasting and Keith pushing careful flattery and well-trained smiles. When Keith was sure he had him hooked, he slid off his stool and stepped closer. He knew it made him look shorter than he was. Less intimidating. Like his lean body wasn't packed with long, dense muscles capable of flipping someone twice his weight. 

"What do you say you and I get out of here and continue this in a more... private location?" Keith asked, sliding a hand up his ridiculously tacky Hawaiian-style shirt. 

"My car's parked out front." Dice-shirt's eyes were roving over him, quite obviously undressing him in his head. "I've got a real nice apartment uptown. Lay you out on some silk sheets..." 

Wow, zero tact or style at all. Keith let out a high, impatient moan. "I don't want to wait that long..." He pouted, linking his arms around the man's thick neck. "How about we just sneak out the back of this place? I can't wait to taste you..." He could, he really could wait forever, but he wouldn't need to worry about that. 

"Eager little thing, aren't you?" Dice-shirt chuckled and slid his hands around his hips— nope, that hand was on his ass. Ugh. 

Keith tugged him to his feet, and Dice-shirt tossed a few bills onto the bar before he let Keith drag him toward the back of the club. He stopped to press Keith up against the exposed-brick wall between the bathrooms and the back exit, pinning him by the wrists – and causing a back-up plan to knee him in the balls to flash through Keith's mind as he resisted the urge to break the grip. The guy practically slammed his face into Keith's as he kissed him sloppily. Keith could taste the sharp bite of whiskey and cigar smoke over the stench of his breath, and the overwhelming cheap cologne burned into his sensitive nose like thorns, but he forced himself to kiss back and let out a needy moan. 

"No collar, kitty-boy?" Dice-shirt hummed, sucking a wet hickey onto the side of Keith's throat. "No owner?" 

"No..." Keith sighed mournfully, as if he wanted one. 

"I'm gonna fuck your pussy, little pussy-cat," Dice-shirt grabbed his ass roughly. _Wow_. Keith didn't know what was worse: the groping, the demeaning words, or the terrible attempt at a pun. The guy kneaded at his ass and breathed wetly over Keith's ear, making him shudder with disgust and his ear flatten reflexively against his head. "Make you _beg_ me to be your owner..." 

"Mm, not here, someone might see us..." Keith nudged him toward the back door. "Outside, please?" 

"Shy, are you?" Dice-shirt chuckled lowly. "Just as well. You're for my eyes alone." 

Keith drew him into another kiss as he worked the back door open with one hand, and the two of them went stumbling into the alleyway behind the club. No sooner had the door closed than Keith had pushed the man up against the wall, reached behind himself and found the knife hidden at the back of his belt under his jacket. A metallic _shiing_ cut through the stillness of the night air as Keith whipped out the blade and pressed it to Dice-shirt's paunchy neck. 

Dice-shirt paused for half a moment, then let out a low chuckle. "Kinky, aren't you?" 

"I am, but you're not going to get to find out." Keith told him, voice hard as steel. His demeanor flipped completely, and gone was the innocent little Cat-Boy looking for a quick fuck. He heard the reassuring scuff of footsteps behind him and the clicks as several guns took aim around him. Such a sound might scare someone else, but he knew exactly who was holding those guns and their presence here was far more reassuring than it was worrying. For him, at least. 

Dice-shirt's eyes widened as he looked over Keith's shoulder. "You—" 

"You've neglected your debts long enough." Antok told the man. 

"The Blade of Marmora has limited patience for lecherous gamblers who can’t repay their dues." Thace added. "And you have exhausted that patience." 

"Time to pay the price." Ulaz confirmed. 

Dice-shirt scowled at Keith, fire burning in his eyes. "You little _cunt—"_ He lifted his hands to Keith's throat to throttle him, but Keith twisted a hand into his ridiculous shirt and pushed the knife harder against his skin, hard enough that little beads of blood welled around the edge. The word set off the same anger as the 'pussy' comment did, but now, he didn't have to play nice. 

"You have a fundamental misunderstanding of male Hybrid anatomy." Keith told him icily. "Must be because your face is one giant asshole." He stepped back, and two other Blades immediately swooped in with their guns to keep him pinned against the wall. True to its name, the Blade of Marmora outfit's primary and most symbolic weapon of choice were the custom knives bearing the group's insignia that each member – Kolivan called them 'family', though few to none were related by blood – received upon becoming fully-fledged members, but in recent years, guns proved to be more efficient. Still, Keith preferred to hide his knife on him somewhere when he worked, just in case. After all, knives were more useful at close range, and Keith’s work was, unfortunately, mostly very close range. 

"Are you alright, Keith?" Thace asked quietly while the others ushered a sputtering and now-fearful Dice-shirt into the back of a car with dark-tinted windows. 

"I'm fine." Keith slipped his knife back into the sheath at the back of his belt. It was nothing he wasn't used to. He made a face at the taste lingering in his mouth. "Actually, you wouldn't happen to have any mouthwash or gum or anything on you?" 

Thace pulled a small package of mints out of the inner pocket of his well-tailored suit and flipped open the top. Glancing at the loathsome goon they had just captured, he just handed the entire pack to Keith. "Have as many as you like." 

"Thanks." Keith popped two into his mouth. He watched as Ulaz and Regris got into the front of the car and drove away, the engine making hardly a sound. "We're not taking the same car back to headquarters?" He asked as the car disappeared around the corner. 

"He isn't going to headquarters." Thace replied lowly. 

Keith nodded as another car pulled up to the mouth of the alley, understanding the words that weren't said. The Blade of Marmora virtually controlled this part of the city, with hands and eyes everywhere from the mayor's office to the depths of the black market. They were a force to be reckoned with, and only a fool would consider reckoning with them. Keith had read the file on Dice-shirt, and he was a pretty big fool. Ulaz and Regris would see to it he was suitably dealt with. 

Thace got into the front passenger seat with a nod of greeting to the Blade at the wheel, while Antok and Keith slipped into the backseat. The windows were tinted dark so no one could see inside, and it dimmed the lights of the city as they drove through the streets. 

Antok laid his gun across his lap and turned to look at Keith, mouth twisted into a perpetual frown by the scar cutting across his lip. "Are you alright?" He asked, voice a low rumble as he touched the reddening hickey left on Keith's neck. 

"I'm fine." Keith scrubbed at the mark with the back of his hand. Ugh, it was still damp... "It'll fade." They always asked after him following every one of these seduction-and-capture jobs, checking in on him like he wasn't capable of fending for himself. It had bothered Keith, at first, but now he was used to the Blade's particular flavor of care. Funny, that the darkest, cruelest, most ruthless crime syndicate in the state went hand-in-hand with members looking out for each other. Once you passed their Trials, you were one of them. That was probably why they referred to their members as family – a family who would literally kill for you. Or maybe that's just what family was like. Keith wouldn't know; he had never had a family, just a long string of terrible owners, ranging from sickeningly coddling to overbearing to downright abusive. 

When Kolivan had found him collapsed where he fell on the street a few years ago, practically dead on his doorstep, Keith had thought he would be little different from his past owners. Instead, he had nursed him back to health, never made a single unwanted advance on him, and when Keith was healed, he offered the Hybrid a choice: freedom to walk out the door to live how he saw fit, or the chance to join the Blade of Marmora as their equal, not a lesser being because of his species. After receiving more respect in their care than he ever had in his life, and knowing how hard it was for an ownerless Hybrid to survive on their own, Keith saw no reason to turn them down. He wasn't ignorant as to what the group did and the danger of their profession, but he had little left to lose and the benefits outweighed the costs. He worked hard for them and his hard work was rewarded, in ways that only a powerful crime syndicate could provide; through carefully-placed bribes and favors (and probably a few soft threats) they expedited his paperwork to make him a legally free Hybrid, got him an apartment, a driver's license (two nearly impossible things for a Hybrid to acquire, free or not), and now he even had a little red and black motorcycle to his name (though he was proud to say he had earned that last one himself, as a thank-you present from a garage under the Blade's protection, from the owner whom Keith had helped with a troublesome string of repeat burglaries). The Blade was a dangerous group to work for, certainly, but they had given Keith opportunities beyond what he would be able to do on his own, and they treated him like an equal. And for that, he would gladly do anything they required of him. 

...Still, he wasn't a huge fan of these seduction-and-capture jobs, he thought as he popped another of Thace's mints in his mouth. 

The car left the glow of the city lights behind and dipped down into an underground parking lot, where a mixture of cars waited; syndicate-owned "business cars" with dark windows like the one they were in, higher-up member's personal cars, Keith's motorcycle, and for some reason that was beyond him, Regris's ten-speed road bike (Keith knew what Regris's salary was, he could have any car he wanted and yet the man insisted on cycling to work like a city businessman rather than a professional hitman). From the parking lot, they took the elevator up to the first floor. The building had originally been an old bank, and the Blade had kept the sleek black marble floors and gilded art-deco interior when they moved in. They made good use of the vaults, as well as the private offices (there was quite a bit of paperwork involved in running a crime syndicate, along with having their hands in half the legal businesses in the city). They also had an armory, kitchen, and several boarding rooms for members to stay in should they find themselves in need of a place to sleep, due to everything from relationship troubles to attempted assassinations. The bank's old lobby, a huge, beautiful hall with chandeliers made of panes of amber and purple glass and wrought iron, now housed a mess hall and lounge where members could relax in complete safety, surrounded by thick walls, high security, and their fellow Blades. 

Thace seemed intent on heading there, probably to wait for his husband to return to headquarters, and Antok parted ways with them to get to a meeting with the director of the city hospital. Thace looked back at Keith, silently asking if he would join him. 

Keith shook his head. "I need to have a word with Leader." 

Thace nodded. "I believe he is in his office." 

“Thanks. For everything.” Keith didn’t mean just for telling him where Kolivan was. These sorts of jobs had the high risk of things going bad very quickly, and while Keith could probably handle it himself, Thace’s backup was always reassuring. 

Thace’s expression softened, understanding what Keith meant. “Anytime, Keith. Good work today.” He dipped his head in acknowledgement, and they parted ways. 

Keith made his way down the elegant hallway toward the offices at the heart of the building, feet taking a well-worn path over the black marble. He knocked on Kolivan's office door – unmarked, but everyone who had access to this building knew it was his – and rubbed at the cursed hickey on his throat before shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. A voice bid him to enter, so he did, closing the door behind himself. 

Kolivan's office was larger than the others, probably the bank director's when the building was built. A small, art-deco chandelier in the center of the ceiling along with a small desk lamp cast a soft glow over the dark wood paneling. Kolivan was seated at the massive wooden desk, a laptop and papers spread over the surface of the desk. The Blade of Marmora's insignia hung on a purple banner behind him, and underneath it on a shelf sat a small rack that held his blade (when it wasn't on his belt, that was). On the corner of the desk was a small rack housing his favored gun, the barrel carefully positioned to face the two luxurious chairs in front of his desk; anyone that came to see him would have to look at him past the barrel of his gun. That, coupled with the relatively shadowy interior of the room in general, made for quite an intimidating image. Keith was not ashamed to admit he had been somewhat terrified the first time he found himself standing here. And rightly so -- Kolivan didn't get to be the leader of the most powerful crime syndicate in the state through mere politeness and niceties. But that didn't mean he never used them (just only to his advantage, or the advantage of his "family"). A few lingering dregs of trepidation still lurked in Keith's heart out of sheer habit from his upbringing, but he knew he had nothing to fear, here. 

"I assume the mission was a success?" Kolivan asked, barely looking up from his paperwork. 

"Yes, sir." Keith replied, stopping in front of the desk. It was unprofessional, but he kept his hands stuffed in his pockets, something dark twisting in his gut. The mission had been a success, but it still put him in a bad mood. "That bastard is in Ulaz and Regris's care, at the moment." If he was still alive, that is. Keith didn't really want to know the specifics of what would be done with him. Whatever it was, he had no doubt it was well-deserved. 

Kolivan hummed thoughtfully, glancing up at him. "You are upset." He capped his fountain pen and set it in a perfectly straight line at the top of the paper he had in front of him, turning his attention to Keith. 

Keith cast his eyes down and lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "I get that what I do is an important tactic that takes them off-guard. But I don't like being the one to do it." He admitted, eyes trained on the corner of his desk. 

"If you are truly against it, we can find other work for you." Kolivan said evenly. "Regris claims he is, quote, 'sexy enough to seduce the enemy' in your stead." 

Keith snorted. That sounded like something Regris would say. "I can keep doing it. But on one condition." 

Kolivan sat back, folding his hands over the stomach of his expensive suit. "I'm listening." 

Keith looked up, his eyes hard. "Every time I have to let one of those bastards put their hands on me, I want to come back here and I want you to claim me." 

Kolivan's expression didn't change, a perfect poker face. "I hold no ownership over you, Keith. You are not mine to claim." 

"But I _want_ you to." Keith told him. It was the one and only frustrating side to the freedom Kolivan had granted Keith; there was a _reason_ why so few Hybrids even wanted full freedom. By their very nature, they sought safety, stability, warmth. They were bred to want a loving owner to take care of them. And while Keith had, for so many years, resented and fought this desire, it became clear to him since joining the Blade that he too wanted that, just on his own specific terms. 

He took a deep breath and went on. "The only reason I dislike those jobs is because I hate the feeling of those bastards' hands on me and the things they say to me." It reminded him too much of the worst of his previous owners, the ones who treated him like an expensive sex toy rather than a living, breathing being. The first few times he had done jobs like these, he had to fight off flashbacks and chills racing up his spine, and had spent hours curled up on his borrowed bed in the depths of the Blade's headquarters with a blanket wrapped around him and his new knife clutched in his hands to remind himself of where he was. It got easier with time, but it didn't ever really go away. Keith looked up and met Kolivan's steady gaze with his own. "I can let them touch me as much as necessary to get the job done. But when I come back, I want you to erase every touch with your own, until all I can feel is you." He swallowed. "Please." He added. 

Kolivan's lips twitched up on the side of his mouth not marred by the long scar stretching from his eye to his mouth, a fleeting gesture of amusement. "Well, since you're asking so nicely, I can consider it." He leaned back in his chair and rested an elbow on the armrest. "Of course, asking even nicer might sway my opinion more." 

Keith pulled his hands out of his jacket pockets and came around the wide desk until he was in front of Kolivan, then climbed into his lap with his folded knees bracketing his leader's hips, arms linked around the back of his neck. Kolivan was so tall that even on his lap, Keith still wasn't quite at eye level and had to look up at him through his lashes. "Please, Leader... please touch me. Make me forget every bad touch I've felt. I know you can make me feel good again. Please." It was not the first time he had ended up here; Kolivan had made it clear from the beginning that neither he nor any of his men would force themselves on Keith, but that didn't mean he had never indulged in any intimacy with them. They just made sure it was on his terms (and that, for Keith, was the sexiest thing they could have ever done). 

"Of course, my little blade..." Kolivan's hand came up to card through his hair between his ears, the sensation making Keith's eyes flutter closed as a long-held sigh left him. "Where do you need me to touch you?" 

Keith shivered as he thought back to the incident at the club. "My wrists..." He paused, watching as Kolivan circled long, gentle fingers around his wrists and rubbed the insides with his thumbs, bringing them up to press a kiss to first the left one, then the right. Keith swallowed. "My waist. Hips. Ass." He sighed and relaxed as Kolivan's hands slipped under his shirt and started stroking his skin, almost petting him. He bit his lip. "M-mouth..." 

"Are you asking me to kiss you, Keith?" Kolivan asked, a hint of amusement coloring his voice. At Keith's eager nod, he tilted his chin up and pressed a kiss to his lips for a long moment before letting Keith deepen it, a whimper slipping out of him as Kolivan delved his tongue inside his mouth. "Wintermint?" He asked against Keith's lips. 

"Mints. From Thace." Keith pressed closer to him as the hands at his waist shifted, one splaying over his ass and the other sliding up and down the length of his back. A low purr built up in his chest, satisfied and content. 

"You truly hated that, didn't you..." Kolivan murmured thoughtfully as he trailed his lips along the line of Keith's jaw. 

"His breath was just gross." Keith tilted his head to grant him better access. "Not like yours." Kolivan always smelled and tasted clean, and warm, his cologne expensive and musky but not overpowering. He smelled woodsy and a little spicy, and comfortable and reassuring in a way that Keith couldn't describe, only feel. Exactly what Keith needed right now. He wanted those lips on his again, but feeling them slide down the length of his throat was a good second. 

"And did he do this to you?" Kolivan asked, a hint of coldness hardening his words, though his hands remained gentle on Keith. Keith nodded wordlessly, his breath stolen from his lungs. Kolivan growled in a way that had Keith's hair standing on end and his tail puffing up slightly, heart racing quicker – something akin to fear, but this time born from a place of excitement rather than true fear. Teeth nipped at him, directly over the sore, sensitive skin, and he gasped and whined as Kolivan set to darkening the mark, making it his own. When he was satisfied with that one, he moved down to suck another hickey at the hollow of his collarbone, then kissed Keith deep and long enough to get him nice and relaxed before sliding his lips along the other side of his jaw. He brushed back his hair to lay wet kisses and teasing nips at the sensitive patch of skin underneath his black, fluffy ear, cradling his head to scratch lightly just below the opposite ear. 

The attention to his ear scent glands left Keith moaning and shifting impatiently in his lap, his purrs modulating in time with his quick, panting breaths. "Leader, _please_..." 

"What did I tell you to call me, when we do this?" Kolivan admonished lightly, a warning nip hammering the words home. 

Keith shivered, the feeling entirely different than the ominous shudders he had felt in the club before. "Kolivan..." Just his name, his proper name. Not _'master'_ , not _'sir'_ , not any of the things he had been forced to call his owners in the past. Not even _'leader'_ , his title as head of the mafia. Just Kolivan. And he wasn't _'pet'_ , or _'slut'_ , or any of the much, much worse names he had been called. He was Keith. A person, an equal to his brothers in the Blade, with rights that Kolivan had given him and respect won by his own merit. 

"Very good." Kolivan hummed, and the praise shot straight to Keith's cock. "Good boy, Keith." 

"Kolivan, please..." Keith whimpered, grinding down on his lap. "Please, I want you..." 

"Patience." Kolivan held him still with one hand on his hip and trailed the other up and down the length of his back, from the center of his back where the purr was the strongest all the way down to the swell of his ass. "You wanted me to erase every touch until you can feel only mine, remember?" 

Keith whined and bobbed his head. He half-wished he had just asked Kolivan for a quick, hard fuck. But the other half relished in this slow attention, the world melting away until it was just the two of them. He needed this. Kolivan was the first to indulge him in the feline aspects of his biology without detracting from what made him human, petting him and praising him while never speaking down to him. Instead, he built him up, carefully and lovingly with kisses and light touches, until Keith's head was pleasantly empty and his body was deliciously warm and buzzing, moans slipping out of him between the steady purring. 

After what seemed like an eternity (but an eternity well-spent) Kolivan drew him close with one arm wrapped around him, leaned forward a bit, and began shifting the papers around on his desk. Keith blinked back to awareness and looked over his shoulder. "You're going back to work?" They hadn't even gotten their pants off! 

"No," Kolivan chuckled, a low vibration Keith could feel in his chest where he was pressed to it. "Important as you are, Keith, these papers are also quite important." 

Keith probably should have known Kolivan wouldn't just lay him out over his paperwork and fuck him. He was too fastidious for that, too detail-oriented. He had to be, to run the shadowy organization successfully for so many decades. Sometimes that was frustrating, like when he forced Keith to actually get certified before handing him a gun, even after he was inducted. But Kolivan always had his reasons for it, and Keith trusted him. 

"And of course," Kolivan reached for the gun perched on the corner of his desk and set the weapon on top of the papers in his lower desk drawer. "Your safety is the most important." 

Keith let out a high, needy whine as warmth pooled in his gut, and he was unable to help his urge to rub his cheek and ear against Kolivan's throat to scent him. After the harshness of his life, it wasn't really surprising that he had developed a kink for genuinely being cared for (among a number of other, more conventional kinks... and a few unconventional ones too). 

Kolivan slid the drawer shut and returned his full attention to the Hybrid in his lap, drawing him into another deep kiss as he slid Keith's jacket off his shoulders and down his arms. He lightly dragged his nails back up Keith's bare arms, coaxing little gasps and whimpers from him and making his hair stand up, almost like he had been electrified with pure pleasure. He took a moment to grip Keith's hips with a chuckle, stilling his impatient rocking motions, before taking the bottom hem of his t-shirt and lifting it up and over his head. 

Without the barrier of his shirt in the way, Keith leaned against Kolivan's chest, relishing the smooth slide of the expensive suit and the dark purple silk tie under his skin. Kolivan indulged him for a minute, holding him securely around the waist and running his hand up and down the length of his spine. His fingers caught against bumps and scars that littered his skin -- some from his work in the mafia, others older and with much worse memories attached. Yet Kolivan didn't balk at the sight or feel of them, continuing his ministrations. Keith knew Kolivan liked nothing more than to get him relaxed and purring, a sure sign of trust and contentment, and he was happy to say the feeling was mutual. Few of Keith's owners in the past had cared about his well-being enough to get him to purr, and those who had forced him to do it always talked down to him and treated him like an actual cat, sometimes extremely so (he still had scars around his wrists from mitts being pulled too tight and left on 24/7, and permanent discolored stains like eternal bruises on his knees from being forced to walk on them). Kolivan had never treated him like that; he had always treated him like a normal human, who just so happened to like being scratched behind the ears, being pet, and could purr when he was happy. And Kolivan greatly enjoyed getting him to the point where he wanted to purr, with soft touches like he was currently giving to his back now. 

Keith nuzzled his head against Kolivan's throat, letting him know he was ready to move on. Kolivan stood up and lifted Keith's weight easily, the strong muscles of his arms bulging and hard under his suit. He laid him out on his back on the mostly-clear desk, the wood cool against his warm skin and making him shiver pleasantly. 

Kolivan leaned over him, hands planted to either side of Keith's head. "Tell me what you want me to do, Keith." He commanded, voice low and charged like a thunderstorm. 

"Fuck me," Keith grabbed the lapel of his expensive jacket and tried to pull him closer, but Kolivan was unmoving, a mountain above him. "Fuck me so hard you leave bruises, and I can't even remember my own name, let alone the feeling of that bastard's hands on me." 

Kolivan let out a low rumble that lit Keith's insides on fire and swooped down to kiss him breathless, hands running down his chest, thumbing over his nipples, before rubbing down his stomach and reaching his jeans. He undid the button and zipper swiftly and reached behind him to unhook Keith's ankles from around his waist so he could tug the tight jeans down his legs. They hugged his ass perfectly and Keith knew he looked damn good in them, that was why he wore them for jobs like this. But he much preferred when Kolivan pulled them off and dropped them with his other clothes next to the desk. 

Kolivan let one hand smooth up and down Keith's chest and stomach, more petting him than pinning him. His other hand pulled open the top drawer of his desk and rooted around until he located a small tube of lube (Keith was far from the first encounter he had had in this office, and he doubted he would be the last). Sliding the drawer closed again, he twisted the cap off with his teeth as his fingers moved lower down his stomach, pausing to stroke the cock that was straining against Keith's abdomen. Keith let out a gasp and threw his head back at _finally_ getting some direct stimulation there, spreading his legs wider as Kolivan trailed his fingers down the curve of his pelvis. The pad of a thumb rubbed over his asshole, barely pressing in enough to tease. After lubing up his fingers, Kolivan pressed one in at the same time he captured Keith's lips in another kiss, swallowing his moan. 

"Another..." Keith gasped as soon as Kolivan started to thrust slowly. "Another..." 

"No." Kolivan said simply. "I will not hurt you." 

" _Please_..." Keith begged, rolling his hips up to urge the finger deeper. 

Kolivan growled and planted his free hand on Keith's abdomen to keep him still, the spread of his fingers completely covering his trim waist. "You will wait until you are ready." 

Keith bit his lip and tipped his head back, somehow unbelievably turned on despite the fact he only had one finger inside him. Maybe it was the tone, maybe it was the words and the care behind them, maybe it was being pinned down... Probably all three. He didn't give it much thought, other than he just wanted _more_. 

Keith whimpered into the kiss when Kolivan finally added another finger and outright moaned when he spread them, scissoring. His lips moved along his cheek, knowing full and well that Keith's scent glands were there, and then trailed down his neck, kissing and nipping at the skin until he had sucked a mark mirroring the one on the other side of his throat, the one he had made his own. Keith nearly sobbed when he worked a third finger inside as well, his legs tightening around the muscle-firm, broad waist between them. Kolivan worked him open slowly, methodically, all the while kissing him and stroking his free hand over every inch of skin he could reach. 

When the fingers slid out of him, Keith let out a high, needy whine of protest and clenched down as if that was enough to keep them inside him. 

"Easy, Keith." Kolivan hushed him, straightening up to undo the buckle of his belt and unzip his black slacks. Keith pushed himself up onto his elbows to watch him take out his cock, eyeing him hungrily. He wanted that thing splitting him open, he wanted it to _break_ him, because Kolivan was the only one he trusted to put him back together again. 

After spreading a generous amount of lube over his length, Kolivan gripped Keith's hip with one hand and took himself in the other, lining himself up. The wide tip breaching him punched a groan out of Keith's lungs and as the thick length slid deeper, his arms went weak and he fell back on the desk, accidentally striking the back of his head against the hard wood with a sharp _thunk_. He didn't care, but Kolivan immediately paused and reached out to feel the back of Keith's head. 

"Keith, are you alright?" He stopped his movement, which was both incredibly sweet and also incredibly frustrating, given that he was barely an inch inside Keith. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Keith turned his head to nuzzle into the palm of Kolivan's hand. "Keep going." 

Kolivan sighed and shook his head fondly, but did as he asked. He kept his hand between Keith's head and the desk and drew him into another kiss as he thrust shallowly, pressing deeper with every little thrust and swallowing each little cry or gasp he coaxed from him. It was good – gut-twisting, overwhelmingly _good_ – but it wasn't what Keith had asked him for. "Harder..." Keith gasped against his lips, fisting the lapels of Kolivan's suit jacket. "Harder, faster... please..." 

Kolivan let out a low rumble like thunder that made lightning crackle under Keith's skin. He pulled back a bit, just enough to loom over him and run his hands down the sides of Keith's torso until he reached his waist. Without another word, he pulled out slowly, then slammed back in hard enough to make Keith throw his head back with a shout. Kolivan set a quick, hard pace, thrusting into Keith with enough force to push him up the desk only to yank him back by the firm grip on his waist. 

The embers that had been slowly coaxed up burst into flames, the heat consuming Keith in the best way possible. He reached out to wind his arms around the back of Kolivan's neck, fingers tangling in his white braid, and tugged his lips back to his own as the universe aligned and condensed into a pinpoint inside him that threatened to explode like a supernova. Kolivan delved his tongue into his willing mouth and breathed his name against his lips, and Keith's toes curled and his back arched off the desk. Kolivan stripped away at his layers until he left him bare and able to be seen for who – not what – he was; he might be a soldier, a spy, he might be a Hybrid, but before all of that, he was... 

" _Keith_..." Kolivan growled against his skin as he licked his way back down Keith's bared throat to that first hickey. That bastard’s mark, the one he never wanted. The one Kolivan had peeled off with his teeth and his lips, molding it into something _his_ that Keith could be proud of instead. Just like he had with the rest of him, washing him clean and setting him on his feet again, with a hand nearby should he ever need it. 

That huge, warm hand slid from his waist to curl around his cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Keith let out a shout as the inferno blazed between his hips and knew he was close, he was so close, just a little more... His back arched off the desk and Kolivan's other hand slipped into the arc, just the barest hint of nails scratching lightly over the small of his back and the base of his tale as teeth buried themselves into the oversensitive skin of his neck. 

Keith came with a wordless scream, his cum coating Kolivan's hand and splattering up his chest as his walls clamped down on the thick cock inside him. Kolivan let out a low groan and thrust only a few more times into the tight heat before finishing as well, the burst of liquid heat almost too much for his sensitive walls. Keith shivered and let out a cracked whine, fingers tangled in the back of Kolivan's suit jacket and no doubt wrinkling it terribly, but he barely noticed it over the waves of pleasure washing over him. He hadn't stopped purring the entire time, and the vibrations just amplified the pleasure and sent it deep down into his bones, sparking along every nerve, healing his soul as much as it did his body. 

Fingers stroked through his sweaty hair, pausing to scratch lightly behind his ears as lips pressed against his forehead. "Feel better?" 

Keith nodded. "Y-yeah..." He sighed and wrapped his arms around Kolivan, legs tightening around his waist. "Thank you." 

"You do not need to thank me, Keith." Kolivan slid a hand under his back and lifted him up. Keith expected him to pull away, or maybe lift him off the desk and set him on the ground, but Kolivan just adjusted his grip on him and sat back in his chair once more, settling Keith on his lap. His cock had softened after he came, but by some miracle hadn’t slipped out even with change in position. Neither of them bothered to move it, and Keith found he liked having it stay nice and warm inside him. 

Kolivan’s suit was a mess, rumpled and sticky with cum, lube, and sweat. Kolivan acted like he didn't even notice, instead guiding Keith's head to his chest and arranging him in his lap more comfortably with his legs folded up to either side of Kolivan's hips. 

"Sorry for ruining your suit." Keith nudged the crumpled lapel and wrinkled silk tie with his nose. 

"It was well worth it." Kolivan chuckled, scratching between his ears. "Perhaps you can accompany me to the tailor when I replace it. It's about time you had a good suit of your own. Besides, you might need it for some future jobs I have in mind for you." 

"Seduction-and-capture?" Keith asked, the good mood fading a bit. 

"Not so much. Protection racketeering, small debt collection... perhaps you can even start shadowing Ulaz and Antok to learn how to trade favors with high-level public offices." Kolivan said. "I apologize for making you feel like you were only a set of ears and a pretty face to us. You are much more than that, Keith." 

Keith smiled and nuzzled into the broad chest in front of him, warmth and contentment spreading through him at the words. 

A hand carded through his hair again before smoothing down and up his back, spurring another purr that sparked warmth through his entire body. "You may leave when you like, but you are welcome to stay." Kolivan murmured. 

"Maybe... just a little while..." Keith was exhausted, completely wrung out. He could already feel himself drifting off, sleep weighing like a heavy, thick blanket over him. Much like the big, warm hands gently moving over his back. He sighed and let his eyes fall closed, relishing the hand on him that didn't stop even as Kolivan reached for his paperwork with his other hand. Maybe being a 'lap cat' wasn't so bad after all, at least once in a while. 

**Author's Note:**

> *Googles "mafia structure" and "do cats purr during sex?" in quick succession*
> 
> The FBI agent in my webcam: "…what the fuk r u doing, dude?" 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you liked it (^_^) I've also got a [tumblr](http://gold-leeaf.tumblr.com) and a [NSFW tumblr](http://bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading!


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